


Bad Intentions

by GendryVonTeese



Series: Hold Me Down [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, High School, LYDIA'S A WILD WOMAN, Late Night Conversations, Love Confessions, Mutual Pining, Phone Sex, Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexy Stiles, texting but not quite sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 02:39:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8950660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GendryVonTeese/pseuds/GendryVonTeese
Summary: Lydia is a little lost and wanting on Friday night.





	

**Author's Note:**

> "Bad Intentions" by Niykee Heaton

Lydia Martin was greedy.

She was greedy for very few things, and competitive for the rest. She liked banter, and playful fighting. She had a sharp wit and sense of humor, and she loved using it on people unsuspectingly. People that didn’t expect her to be smart, or sarcastic, or triumphant. People that expected too much or too little from her. She knew how to use her words and her voice was her favorite weapon.

But there was another feeling that Lydia had grown a bit of greed to. It was that feeling of being caught off guard. Now, it didn’t happen often, but when it did, it would leave a burning in her stomach. It took her a very long time to place the feeling somewhere in her psyche long enough to make sense of it. Because Lydia was competitive by nature, and she didn’t nurture without it.

There were many reasons for why she felt like she could melt into Stiles. They shared a similar coldness, but not with each other. Somehow, they made each other warm. Stiles showed her that. It was her greed that made her bold enough to wrap herself all over him in the darkness of his bedroom, until he reciprocated and showed her what hovering over her body could make her feel. Being truly caught off guard and impressed was a turn on for her, without fail.

And Stiles Stilinski definitely knew this.

Lydia was at school on Friday night working on her art mid-term, and she hadn’t even thought to pack up her book bag because she – along with the four other art students – had stayed after school let out. She hadn’t checked her text messages since she got up this morning and didn’t even think to open them. She shut her phone off before first period, in an effort not to be tempted to read whatever he’d sent. But now that she’s packed up and waiting outside for her mother to pick her up, she turns it on and checks her inbox.

When Mrs. Martin rolls up to the curb, Lydia climbs into the passenger seat and tries hard not to crack her phone in half on the way home. Steady breathing keeps her from letting out a hormone-heavy female moan. Stiles sent six texts. Six typically Stiles-like texts. All of them heat inducing, and none of them being what she was expecting. Stiles is all words and expressions and _emphasis_ , but wow, does he have a gift for the vernacular. She knows now that she was right to fear reading them before school.

 

 **From: Stiles**  
7:00am  
  
**You should see my neck right now. I forgot when I woke up and then I looked in the mirror and remembered all of it. My dad left on an early call so he didn’t see, thank God. I’d say I was mad but I’m really, really not. I was going to send you a picture but I chickened out. You’ll see it anyway. My neck is red and purple but I don’t care. They feel really good when I touch them. Which I may or may not have been doing for the past 15 minutes. I want you to touch them maybe.**

 **From: Stiles**  
7:33am  
  
**When are you getting to school? You gotta teach me your makeup magic so my dad doesn’t see. I can’t stop touching my neck.**

 **From: Stiles**  
7:40am  
  
**Are you wearing a skirt today? I love it when you wear skirts. Or that dress with flowers all over it. Okay, I need to stop rambling, sorry. Scott and I got coffee and now I’m at my locker texting you and oh MY GOD. I think someone just called me a slut. Rude. I can’t stop thinking about your legs around me. You looked soooo good last night with your hair all over my pillow and your lips all puffy. It is a literal mental image I’ve committed to memory. I had to jack off twice after you left and then again this morning. I like how you look in my bed, Lydia Martin. And possibly I like the thrill of under me you so quite new.**

 **From: Stiles**  
7:49am  
  
**I’m sorry I told you about jacking off. I shouldn’t have said that.  Unless you’re into it. In which case I should probably tell you that there is a Kill Bill: Volume II.**

**From: Stiles**  
7:55am 

**You conveniently got here just before the first period bell? Interesting. You look really pretty today. And you’re wearing a skirt. Thank you for that. I will now be thinking about your legs during English Lit. I like them even more now that I know what they feel like. I know you saw my neck, so what’s the verdict? Greenberg just told me to go to church. So that must mean something. I think you left an impression on a few people. Thank fuck I don’t have Mr. Harris this year. He’d suspend me for sure.**

Apparently Lydia wasn’t the only who had suffered through the school day. By the time she gets to the last text, she can’t stop imaging their last encounter right before art class. Where she did get to touch the bruises she left on him.

**From: Stiles**  
8:01am 

**Scott thinks I hooked up with Heather but I didn’t correct him or anything. I told him not to worry about it. Didn’t think it was anyone’s business but ours. God, I can’t stop babbling. Sorry. I know I’m probably annoying you with all these texts. Which I’m hoping you just haven’t read yet……. Wow, that’s an embarrassing thing to text somebody. I’m embarrassed. Should I be freaking out? Please be busy right now. Speaking of being busy, how did your mom have such perfect timing last night? How did she know to get there right when she did? It’s almost like she knew I was going to slide my hands under your shirt or something. Not that I would have. Or wouldn’t have. Who knows. I wasn’t thinking about how soft and pretty your boobs might be, or anything. Or what color your panties were. Why didn’t I look at them like the horny teenager I am? I’m really trying hard not to picture you naked right now, fuck.**

 

Lydia bites her lip hard to hide her smirk from her mother as best she can.

***

Lydia knows she has to reciprocate and reach out to him first. After six long, unfiltered, slightly explicit text messages in a row she needs to do something. She’s not that much of an asshole. She’d reread them a few more times once she got home. It’s 10pm now, and she’s in her room on a Friday night, and she still can’t get over the idea of Stiles’ hands going up her shirt. It makes her shiver.

She tells herself that part of the reason she hadn’t said anything when she got home was because she was helping her mother with making dinner, and then eating dinner, and then cleaning up after (kind of a lie). Not that Stiles is probably expecting anything; he’s very unassuming that way. He texts in short bursts, full sentences usually, sometimes staggered. Doesn’t worry about getting texts back as long he sees you or hears from you in some way, always finding other things to attend to that are more important that obsessing about a response.

Lydia shuts the door to her bedroom, hangs her towel out to dry on her desk chair, and sits pretzel style in the middle of her queen sized bed. She holds her cell phone in her hands for two full minutes.

It’s not like she isn’t ballsy. She can be sometimes. But usually the ball is in her court when she does anything spontaneous. She thinks the ball is kind of past that point. It’s not in her court at all –for the first time.

When Stiles left her in that hallway to head for the boys’ bathroom, she’d entered art class with literal pit stains forming. His open-ended sexual comment about going to the bathroom had her in a tizzy. Talk about sexual connotation… She thought she was above teenage boy gaudiness. She had to ask her teacher to use the bathroom before class started just so she could splash water on her face and spray some antiperspirant under her arms. Art class was not for sweating out Stiles Stilinski, damn it. No matter how Michelangelo his hands were. Art class was for Lydia only.

In the end art class was the best kind of come down for her after seeing Stiles’ hickeys, something she _really_ needed. And staying after for mid-term preparation helped shut her mind down and focus on the scratch of charcoal on newsprint. Lydia always preferred some time to herself every day to shut off her cognitive thinking and just focus on the rhythm of drawing. It mellows her out like nothing else.

But she’s not mellow anymore.

She reads through his texts for the fifth time and… she doesn’t know how she made it through dinner with her mom. She thought she’d be too impatient, dart out after the string beans and head for the stairs, but looking back, perhaps her hesitancy had to do with the fact that she’s actually _nervous_. To call Stiles.

She’s freshly showered, hair drying down her back. She put on her eye cream, her coconut oil, and her lip balm. She’s wearing one of her favorite blue nightgown chemises, for crying out loud. Something she used to save for nights with Jackson. She’s ready to go. _Come on, Lydia._

She bites her lip while she filters through her contacts, thumb hovering over the “Stiles Stilinski” in her contact book. There’s a little sunglass wearing emoji next to his name, something he demanded he put next to his name after the first day of AP Chem. She remembers how he hovered over her shoulder and edited his info just to type it in, his fingers gripping her phone over her fingers like it was nothing.

Back then, it was Stiles wearing those well-fitted tees that slowly drove Lydia wild.

She blinks and snaps herself out of it. She wants to talk to him. She needs to hear from him before tomorrow or she’s never going to sleep. Her thumb gets closer to her phone, and then she pauses. Should she video call him?

No, maybe not. It’s too soon for that. She weighs the idea in her head but decides she’s just not there yet. If she’s making the first move with him (again) it can’t be with a video call…

But what about a picture?

She shakes her head and scoffs out loud.

What is she thinking? She can barely get herself to call him, what kind of picture could she possibly send him right now? Lydia likes to take glamour shots, in good lighting, with _eyeliner_. Sending a selfie seems stupid. She’s not doing anything worth documenting.

 _I’m going to do it right now,_ she nods to herself. _Yes, I am!_

She moans in frustration and ends the call after two seconds, barley giving it any time to ring.

Taking a deep breath, she falls back against her bed and looks off to the side. In her line of vision she sees her hamper. Eyes narrowing automatically, she remembers something about him asking about her panties.

Jackpot.

She reaches around blindly for her phone and springs back up so fast one of her breasts comes up lopsided from the top of her chemise.

**TO STILES:  
I was wearing black ones.**

Her eyes get wide once she hits send and freezes on the spot. She sucks in her lips and doesn’t blink for a moment. What if that was the wrong thing to say? What if he doesn’t remember what he was asking? Oh, god, what if he went to bed already?

Lydia throws her phone off to the side and again, falls back on her comforter with her arms outstretched, side boob be damned. She lets herself obsess for only long enough until she hears her phone vibrate with a response. And then she springs back up and dives belly down like a child for her cell phone.

Taking a deep breath, she hikes her leg up under her and opens it.

**_TO LYDIA:  
Did you just tell me you wore black panties to my house?_ **

A thrill runs through her whole body. She feels like being a little brat so she types:

**Why? Means something?**

She knows what he’s referencing. It’s a myth about girls wearing black panties when they want to have sex or expect to – but she’s not taking the bait just yet.

**_You’re killing me, Martin._ **

Good.

**You asked.**

It takes a little longer for Stiles to start typing again, and then:

**_I did. I asked you quite a few things, actually. I texted you a lot this morning. Sorry, I know that’s not always attractive. I just couldn’t stop. I hope I didn’t cross a line._ **

Lydia bites her lip at the change of tone. There are a lot of things Stiles can’t stop doing once he gets started, and thank the heavens for that.

**Don’t be sorry. It’s okay, Stiles. I know how you are.**

She hopes he doesn’t end the conversation too soon. But what else can she say? It’s quiet for too long, which means Stiles either doesn’t know what to say or doesn’t want to type anything back.

**I’m sorry you got called a slut. If I had never gotten my legs around you, you wouldn’t have been. Maybe. Also, E. E. Cummings? Nice touch.**

It makes her chest tight but once she sees he’s already typing back, she follows it with:

**I don’t mind if you tell Scott.**

She holds her breath.

**_Thank you. It seemed appropriate. LOL, don’t worry. It was the first time I got called a slut… it was eye opening. Wait, what? Really? Are you sure?_ **

**Yeah. Go ahead. Tell him I had my hands all over you.**

Waiting for his text back only makes the tension grow heavier. On more than one level.

**_Yeah?_ **

Heart racing, she fires back one after another.

**Yeah. You wanna tell Scott I felt you up in the dark, made you put on a movie just so I could have my way with you? Go ahead. Wanna tell him those hickeys on your neck are because of me?**

**Tell him you had me laid out on your bed with your hands on my thighs.**

**Tell him your tongue was in my mouth and tell him you had to touch yourself after I left.**

**Tell him you touched yourself this morning.**

**Go ahead, tell him all about it.**

 She runs her fingers through her hair and sits up on her knees in the middle of the bed, exhaling. How’s that for ballsy?

She shuts off her bedside lamp and reclines on her headboard to wait.

Her phone starts ringing. She counts to ten before answering because… well, because. Old habits die hard.

“Hello?” she says softly.

“I can’t believe I typed all of that to you,” is the first thing out of his mouth and Stiles sounds absolutely winded. He sounds like he’s pacing. “I don’t regret it though.”

Of course he doesn’t.

“I don’t regret it either.”

“No?”

She rolls her eyes. “No, Stiles. I told you. I liked it.” It comes out before she even thinks about how he’s going to take that news.

“You LIKED it?” Stiles takes a deep breath, his voice shaky. “You mean you more than just tolerated it? It wasn’t just entertaining? You didn’t laugh while drinking wine in a silk robe being fanned by a humongous fig leaf? You liked it. _You liked it…_ wow, okay.”

Lydia opens her mouth to say something but she doesn’t know what to say because it’s true.

He keeps going.

“I mean I thought it was going overboard since I’m a horny teenage boy, which I’ve admitted many times, but I thought you’d just bypass the me jerking off part. Yeah, maybe not. Maybe not?” he squeaks.

“Stiles-”

“Please don’t think I’m a pervert,” he whines.

She laughs. Not even a giggle. But a short, small laugh. A real one. As soon as she does, Stiles breaths softly into the phone. She knows without seeing him that he’s smiling out the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t think you’re a pervert, Stiles. You’re just vocal. Really vocal, which I was never used to until now.” She doesn’t want to mention Jackson but she knows he can probably put it together that her ex wasn’t all that good at communicating.

He huffs. “Okay.”

It’s quiet for only a second.

“So all that other stuff…”

She stops twirling her hair between her fingers. Oh, boy. She already knows what-

“You got me to put that movie on because you wanted to hook up with me? Is that true?” Stiles asks in a voice that’s both breathy and surprised. And sexy. Very sexy.

She swallows. “I may have… had an ulterior motive.”

He coughs a laugh quietly over the other line and it makes her jealous of that phone being so close to his face.

“That is… That’s just. That is _the greatest thing_ I have ever heard. I’m gonna need time to process that you wanted to hook up with me and tricked me into putting on a movie so you could get your hands on me. Wow, holy shit. I’m amazed. That is unbelievable. I am… Never letting that go. What the fuck.”

Lydia bites back a smile. “How are your hickeys?” She tries not to say it so happily, but screw it, she’s still proud of her artwork. It’s hard not to take herself back to being in that hallway at school with her hand over his warm chest. Ugh. Thinking about Stiles while talking to Stiles at the same time is turning her on.

“Oh, _God_ ,” he groans. “I have no idea what I’m gonna do if my dad sees me. I’m so lucky he has the night shift all this weekend. I didn’t care before because I was blinded by my manly pride and adoration for your mouth but now I’m thinking, yeah, I’ll probably be screwed now. I’m gonna just pretend to be asleep when he gets home because I don’t even _want_ to know what his face is gonna look like if he sees me. I’ll be prolonging that nightmare for as long as possible.”

“I’ll bring some correcting concealers when I come over tomorrow.” She may bring more than that.

“Good. He usually wakes up after 2pm. Did you wanna come over for lunch?”

Lydia smirks. “Brunch. And don’t worry, we’ll cover those bruises before your dad wakes up.”

It gets quiet all of sudden, as if Lydia’s words have caught up with the both of them. She stills, listens to the way Stiles breathes softly with anticipation.

She knows what he’s thinking because she’s thinking the same thing.

“So there’s a Kill Bill Volume Two that we have to watch because of reasons,” Stiles decides, his voice going down an octave.

“Right,” Lydia agrees quickly. Stiles swallows heavily into the receiver and Lydia can’t help it, it just comes out.

“It’s important for plot lines and for the sake of continuity that we-”

“Did you really jerk off twice?” It comes out half a gasp, her chest beating hard. Because even though she doesn’t want to admit it, she’s stuck thinking of an image of Stiles masturbating on _that_ bed. The one they’d been making out on minutes prior. How long did he wait before he put his hands down is pants? Did he do it with his clothes still on? Did he get come on that nice fitting grey tee? Lydia suddenly feels like she’ll die if she doesn’t find out.

The silence on the other end is short but significant, like Stiles has his mouth hanging open. Ugh, he’s probably blushing so prettily right now and Lydia doesn’t even get to see.

“Lydia,” Stiles chokes up, the noise giving away his hammering heart. “Lydia. _Please_.”

“Please, what?” She sits up right, adjusts her breasts in her chemise and reclines on her pillows, letting the old Lydia slowly rise to the surface. “Please, don’t make me _say_ _it_ again, or… please, Lydia, don’t make me _do it_ again?”

He heaves a wet sigh. “Yes, I jerked off twice last night,” tells her slowly, like a confession. How can Stiles be so bashfully shy, yet brazen and dirty, all at the same time?

“What were you thinking about,” she whispers, knowing the answer but dying to hear him say it to her.

“ _You,_ ” he says, thickly. “Always you.”

Lydia feels hot everywhere, down to her toes. Her heart is beating so hard she can barely hear herself. She knows her cheeks are flaming just from the warmth radiating through her face.

“What about me,” she pants, voice nearly transparent.

“You read my texts, you know-”

“Tell me,” she says sweetly.

He grunts, exhaling heavily through his nose. “God, Lydia-”

“You said something about my lips?” she mumbles, putting on a pleading voice, which isn’t hard to do. At this point Lydia is pleading. Desperately.

“Of course, you have perfect lips…”

Stiles takes a deep breath then, and his resolve crumbles like a waterfall. “ So soft, _fuck-_ I couldn’t stop kissing you last night. You had your hair everywhere and I love the way your hair smells, I just- I couldn’t stop thinking about everything, all of you. I had you in my bed and I couldn’t believe I got to touch you. I had _my fucking hands on you_ , Lydia. God, I’m dying,” he ends with a groan. “I’m gonna jerk off again right now if you let me.” A broken sound escapes her, and before she can speak he continues pummeling through.

“You and I both know I was hard the whole time,” he laughs darkly. “Shit. How could I _not_ jerk off? How? I mean, somehow you left my room, I let you leave, for some deranged reason….and I watched you leave the front door from my window. I waited until you got in your mom’s car and then I just unzipped my pants and fell on my bed. The pillows were still warm, too, it smelled like- _mmph-_ fuck, it- it’s something else. Seeing you in my mind and then having it for real. Your legs were so tight around me, oh fu- _FUCK_.”

Lydia finds her fingers twisting and rubbing one of her nipples under her chemise and nearly has a heart attack because she doesn’t remember ever moving her hand.

“Are you jerking off now?” she gasps.

“Are you?” Stiles counters, provocative as all hell and shockingly confident.

“I’m going to if you keep going. You better keep going.”

He huffs a broken laugh on the other line. “I couldn’t even walk you to my fucking front door because I was hard as a rock, and you think you can tell me to stop? _I can’t stop touching my dick-_ fuck, when you started sucking on my neck, fuck me, that was it, I felt like I was gonna blow my load right there. I don’t know how I didn’t. And you just kept _going_ with the hickeys and the sucking. And I let you- yeah. I did, I- _I let you._ God. You were still in my driveway, and I just laid there jerking off in the dark, one hand on my wet dick, and the other on my neck. My neck felt so sore, Lydia. It felt raw. Like someone punched me there, you know? Like, scratched… and…” he trails off, nearly sobbing.

Lydia’s pulls her bottom lip between both teeth and her hand trails down her stomach all the way to the end of her chemise. She pulls it up past her pubic hair and starts stroking between her legs. She is _so wet._ So wet already, just from listening to him. And Christ, does she love to listen to him. Hearing how hard he is and how she can make him lose his mind like this… Stiles wasn’t lying about having a praise kink. Stiles won’t stop until she tells him to…

“You have a great neck. I love sucking on it,” she teases breathlessly, tries hard not to mewl at the sounds of Stiles tugging on his cock. She can hear it a little between the heavy breathing.

“Fuck, yeah. Yeah, you do,” Stiles laughs. “God, I’m touching them right now. My bruises. I couldn’t stop touching them… they felt so raw, I came _twice_ last night,” he says, matter of fact and nearly hysterical. “I didn’t even get out of bed after the first one, I just kept going. Most of my hickeys turned purple already, by the way. A little red, but now just mostly purple. You look- _ugh-_ oh, fuck- you look so good in purple.” Stiles just about chokes on that afterthought, causing Lydia to rub strongly on her clit. Her hips dive up and down in small rolling waves, her toes curling.

“I’m so,” she whispers so low, hiccuping before she can finish.

“You’re what- what, what is it, Lydia? What? _Tell me_ ,” he blurts.

“I’m so wet, Stiles,” she moans softly. Grazing her nipple again with the same hand, she tugs and twists while Stiles has a mental breakdown.

“ _JESUS CHRIST._ Fuck. Oh, fuck. So am I, I’m leaking everywhere. Wanna know what I look like Lydia? I’ll tell you and make you feel like you’re here with me, you like that?”

Lydia whimpers, giving Stiles the cue to go on. And he sounds nothing but victorious. He’ll do anything to keep her like this, and that realization makes her twist her nipple hard.

“I’m sitting back on my legs, right now, kneeling on my bed, wishing you were here. I know you like it when I talk, when I describe how I do things. I don’t have underwear on, I just have my shirt on from school today. You know when I left you outside art class, I tugged my dick so hard in that bathroom?” he nearly brags, dirty talk coming out of his mouth like poetry. “Like, I woke up with my usual morning wood this morning and I got off in the shower before school. I thought I’d be okay, you know, and I didn’t get a hard on at all. Not even during lunch. But, but then- I walked you to class and then you said you’d come over tomorrow and, and you touched my chest- _remember?_ Your hand on my chest? I couldn’t stop thinking about having another chance to have you all over me, shit _-_ I locked myself in the boys’ room and shoved my pants low enough, just to pull my dick out of my underwear because I was so damn hard, I couldn’t believe it. You made me so hard. I didn’t even know I was that hard but I was! At school! _Fuh-uh-uck_ , _oh, I’m gonna come soon, Lydia_ -”

Lydia rolls over and rests the phone in the crease between her two pillows and nearly face plants on the touch screen. She hikes up a leg and pumps two fingers into herself while reaching underneath again for that nipple. This moment is moving too slow and too fast and she can’t even remember being this horny ever.

“I didn’t even count to ten and I shot my load in the toilet like some fucking jock in the locker room. I was _so tired_ after, I didn’t care I was late to my last class. It was the quickest jerk I ever had, and it exhausted me. You ever do that Lydia? Jerk yourself off so hard that you’re body’s just useless afterwards?” Stiles is grunting so heavily between words he sounds winded, and yet… He’s hitting all the right buttons.

The boy is committed.

“…When you come so hard your whole body goes numb?”

Her eyes nearly roll back at the picture she has in her mind of Stiles, standing up, hand on the wall of the stall, tugging his cock, his head knocked back, hickeys on wide display, his eyebrows scrunched in pleasure.

“You sound so fucking sexy, Lydia. _Ummph-_ I wish I was there to see your face, I wanna record that voice. So fucking good,” Stiles whines wantonly.

She’s having sex… phone sex… with Stiles. Lydia Martin is beside herself with confusion and lust, but she’ll be damned before she stops touching herself. This is the best phone sex she’s ever had. Her body feels aflame and her fingers are pumping inside and pulling at her sensitive nipples and she’s gonna come.

“I took a nap when I got home,” he chuckles, sexy and deep. “Made Dinner. Washed up. Did homework. And now here I am four orgasms later, working on a fifth. I can’t believe I’m talking to you right now. I can’t believe I’m making you wet. The fact that those words just left my mouth makes me wetter. God, that nap came in handy – Lydia Martin, you are making my dick exhausted. I am actually dick-tired. Didn’t think it was possible,” he adds, incredulously amused.

“ _Stiles_ ,” she growls, too turned on to say anything else.

He muffles a snigger into what sounds like his shoulder. “Sorry, sorry… Where was I?”

Stiles’ humor used to be a thing she rolled her eyes at, but it’s become sexy to her now. And isn’t that crazy? His easy jokes and laughter are such a turn on for her that hearing him laugh makes her blush. She is horny and impatient and _blushing._

“Something about making me feel like I was with you now,” she cuts in, determined to knock him back on track. “Getting me back on the bed you’re jacking off in. The way my hair smells. Your hands going up my shirt, I think.”

The mood shifts back to serious, and she can tell by his sudden pause that the laughter has left him completely.

“Yeah, I like your hands, Stiles. I like them a lot. I used to think about them in AP Chem. I’d watch you take notes all the time.”

He breathes right up into the receiver.

 “You like my hands?” he croaks.

Lydia knows how to sound sexy and sweet, but the breathy moan that comes out of her mouth is all natural. “ _Oh, yeah_ ,” she drags out real slow, flipping over on her back. She brushes some hair out of her face, her chest rising and falling, picturing how flustered he looks. Picturing how flustered she could _make_ him look.

“Watching you push the top down on that pen over and over again started doing things to me.” She can imagine his hands right now, gliding up her midriff and lifting up her chemise. Lydia can still feel the phantom touch of his hands on her thighs from last night, and she knows it won’t go away until she can feel them again tomorrow.

“What kinda things?”

_Lord, his voice._

Her hands sink back between her legs. “Really, really erotic things. Things like… you standing behind me at my locker and shoving your fingers around my waist and up my shirt and grabbing me over my bra, feeling around, moving your fingers under the wire and squeezing me. Pinching my nipples, pulling them until you get them all taut. Your lips on my neck.”

“ _Mmmph-_ Lydia, fuck. I wanna see your boobs so bad, I wanna grab them. I’d do anything to them you wanted,” Stiles pleads. “I wanna see your nipples so bad. I- _shit-_ I’d make sure I rubbed every finger against them until they were hard. I’d put my hands all over you.”

Lydia’s face feels hot again at his words, picturing the actions as he says them. She strokes her clit nice and slow, savoring the feeling of sharing this with Stiles.

“I think about your hands in my hair, pulling. Or holding my head down-”

Stiles moans like a man in pain. “You’re killing me with this.”

A hum runs through Lydia’s spine. “I think about letting you hold my head down, I think about your hands up my skirt, I think about your fingers rubbing me over my underwear-”

“I should have- I should’ve done that last night, I could’ve-”

“You could have felt how wet I was, pushed my panties to the side. Shoved your fingers in me one at a time like I dream about.”

“You dream about my hands…”

She can hear the sound of skin on skin from the other line and she bites back a whimper. She picks up the pace, her fingers rubbing furiously. “I dream about your hands on my clit,” she blurts, not caring about finesse. “I want them on me, in me.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Can you do that, Stiles? Can you work me like you work that pen?”

“You know I would,” he sobs, “I’d do anything for you. I’d touch it, rub it, _suck it_ -”

A fiery whine tumbles from her lips as she sinks deeper in the pillows, back bowed. Lydia moves the phone in between her ear and the pillow, adjusting fast enough to bring attention back to one of her nipples.

“You sound so fucking sexy, so beautiful.”

“You’re beautiful,” is what she says back, because she means it.

Stiles huffs a sound like a punch to the chest, like he can’t believe she said that to him. “I can’t wait to see you, I can’t wait to have your legs around me again. I wish I was there, I wanna feel how wet you are.”

Lydia doesn’t have to look down to feel the damp spot on her duvet. “I’m so fucking wet,” she whispers. “You got me all wet.”

Lydia starts to riding her fingers, her hips undulating against the bed.

“Oh, Lydia, you got _me_ all wet,” Stiles retorts tiredly, teasing tone coming back. The voice of someone horny and exhausted from lust. “I’ve been leaking pre-cum like- _fuck,_ like a broken faucet. My dick is covered in it. I didn’t get the lube out once.”

Lydia is so gone, so beyond the point of return, she just can’t stop the dirty talk. “I want to see it, Stiles. I want to see your cock. I want to lick the tip like candy.”  Stiles’ soft breath skipping cries in response make her rock her hips more deeply. Her voice comes out like it always comes out when she’s close to orgasm: needy and desperate. “I want see how much I can suck, how long you’ll let me suck on it until you’re begging me to swallow everything that comes out. I want your hands in my hair, pulling my hair

“ _Fucking fuck_ …” he hisses. “I literally cannot, I- I can’t…” he voices trails off, like he can’t form the words. Like he’s got actual tears in his eyes. “I’m not gonna last long,” he sobs.

Lydia relishes in the sounds he’s making, feeling like he’s right there with her, riding the emotional and sexual current that’s been building since last year.

“I wish you were here right now, so bad,” he whispers so low, so softly. It makes her ache.

“If I was there, I’d give you fresh hickeys.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, on your dick and on your legs,” Lydia moans, feeling the waves of pleasure climbing slowly to its peak within her body. “On your chest, your shoulder. My little works of art, all over your body, Stiles.”

“I want it,” he slurs, not even realizing he’s spoken.

“I’d sit on your lap and make you sit still, while I took your hands and sucked your fingers. Until I sucked each and everyone.”

And that’s what does it. Stiles releases a guttural “Lydia,” sending him over the edge and coming. The sound alone makes Lydia’s body jolt and help her fingers push that bundle of nerves deep inside her, playing with it recklessly, making her orgasm. She rides the waves of pleasure wildly and messily, not giving a damn about anything else but her own lust, and the other person on the line.

They listen to each other breathe for a quiet moment as they come down. It happens so naturally that Lydia has to pinch herself to make sure it really happened, that they really did this. That they really just got off together.

Stiles is the first to speak. His voice comes out scratchy and he sounds satisfied. “Wow. That was... unreal.”

She hums back, clutching her phone and carrying it with her to the bathroom to clean up. “Thank God I’m not wearing any underwear. Makes it easier to clean up.” She wipes herself down looks through her drawers for a nail file.

“Okay,” Stiles fires back. “Now you’re just doing it on purpose.”

“It’s always on purpose.”

Stiles practically smiles through the phone. “Well, luckily for you I react properly to any and all feedback. Loudly and with enthusiasm,” he responds all dopey and sated. A hot and heavy pang hits her chest thinking about what he looks like right now, and how soft and pliant he’d be. His post-orgasm voice is definitely hot.

Knowing how he sounds after he’s jerked off is… another thing to be greedy about.

“So you’re coming over tomorrow,” Stiles states with delight, like he’s just realized.

She almost rolls her eyes, but settles on continuing to sit on the toilet and file her nails. “Yes.”

“You said you wanted to suck on my fingers.”

Even though she just got off, she feels her cheeks redden at her brazen confession. “I did.”

 “We just sad some really dirty stuff to each other.”

“Yes.”

 “We just got each other off,” he comments incredulously.

“Also, yes.”

It’s silent for a bit but Lydia gives him the time he needs.

“You know, I was worried about it being weird after.”

“Stiles,” Lydia starts, but she doesn’t finish.

“No, listen. I’m irrational sometimes and I’ve been known to be a little spontaneous, but I’d never treat this like that… I’m… this isn’t a spur of the moment thing for me. I- I feel something for you, you know that, right?”

It took a lot for Lydia to deal with this thing she has for him, but hearing him say it over again... She can’t stop her words from vibrating with fondness when she tells him, “Stiles, I trust you. So much. And I know that, you don’t need to tell me-”

“I do, though. I do need to tell you. I’m crazy about you, Lydia. I always have been. You know. I mean, shit, we just had phone sex! I thought I’d be nervous after, anxious about what you’d think or what I was supposed to think, or… or something. But, I feel really relaxed. I’m kinda too tired to freak out about that, but I am going through some intense ‘mind and body’ shit right now, like, in a good way.” Small laughs bubble out of him, followed by ruffling on the other line that Lydia can tell is Stiles scrubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know what I’m trying to say, really, uh… You make me feel good.”

Lydia doesn’t recognize herself in the mirror until she sees a smile bloom across her face. Her hair is a half-dried wavy mess and her lips are swollen. Her blue chemise is knocked all off her shoulders and side boob is apparent.

“Yeah,” he repeats affectionately, “you make me feel good.”

**Author's Note:**

> yay for me writing three fics that cover the span of two days... I mean what in the world. I can't believe myself some times lol. 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this update! I know I'm never consistent with my writing but thanks for being so patient with me :) Have a great rest of the year, guys! Let me know what you think in the comments and what you'd like to see in part four.


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